


Distraction

by OctoberSkies



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Neck Kissing, One Shot, Sexual Humor, Shameless Smut, Teasing, Tumblr Prompt, pavellan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 17:25:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5342324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctoberSkies/pseuds/OctoberSkies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Tumblr smut prompt: Trying to distract the other with sex while they’re ‘busy’ (Dorian Pavus x Varlen Lavellan)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction

“… What’s round and _so irresistibly perky_ that Orlesian nobles stop in the street to stare at it?”

“If the answer is _your butt_ again, amatus, I am going to throw this book at you.”

Varlen pouted, lying on his stomach upon the bed, arms stretched out in front of him. Dorian was on the other side of the room, his own perfect rump planted firmly in a chair, pouring over a ponderous tome of some description. The Liber- _something_.

“ _Liberalum_...” Dorian sighed when Varlen tried and failed to pronounce it. “… and this is important, Varlen. I’m too busy to be lured away, however enticing the bait.”

Scrunching his face, Varlen decided it was time for plan B. With a wicked grin, he moved with complete silence, shimmying out of his shirt and kicking off his breeches. The shirt he discarded with an expert flick, sending it into a dark corner of the room where he would likely forget about it for months. His breeches… well, _those_ he was craftier with. Varlen bundled them up, placing them in front of him on the bed, now in nothing but his smalls – a pair Dorian had given him, actually. They were… rather flattering, if he dared say so himself, and he was rather choosy about his underwear.

Varlen fought hard to stifle a giggle as he hurriedly fixed his hair, arranged the pillows and lined up his shot, breeches now firmly in hand. A missile of ebonweave. He judged the throw well – they arched majestically through the air, like a griffon taking flight, if the griffon was a pair of awkwardly crumpled pants that had been worn for three days straight. They landed with an unassuming rustle directly in front of Dorian, who jumped as the fabric fluttered past his head, missing by mere inches. Varlen watched for a moment as Dorian stared at them, trying to process the rather unusual information. Then, Varlen cleared his throat pointedly.

“ _Oops_. Sorry about that. Mind tossing those back?”

Dorian sighed heavily, putting the book aside, and stooped forward to snag the breeches with his fingertips. Getting to his feet, he began to speak as he turned.

“I _know_ what you’re trying to do, amatus, but it’s not…”

Varlen smirked as Dorian trailed off, the pants still dangling in his grasp as Varlen lounged upon the pillows, completely bare save a pair of rather _accentuating_ black smalls. Well aware of those grey eyes lingering on every inch of his skin, Varlen made a point to stretch, tensing as he did so, his muscles flexing at the movement ever so slightly. He was not a brawny man, but Varlen certainly had that lean, taut strength - the kind of physique Dorian just so happened to love running his hands over. With an alluring wink, Varlen propped himself onto his elbow and held out his hand expectantly, raising an eyebrow at his Tevinter lover, who appeared to have rooted himself to the ground like a tree.

“Well…?” Varlen prompted, his voice lilting slightly in amusement. Dorian suddenly blinked, as though emerging from a reverie, and took a few steps forward. They were hesitant at first, as though the mage was trapped in some kind of internal debate. Well, evidently the depraved side won, because his steps suddenly solidified, and Dorian breached the space between the chair and the bed without further foot-dragging. Standing beside the bed, he glanced down at Varlen’s outstretched hand, the elven man wiggling his fingers as though to encourage the return of his breeches. Then, with a shake of his head, Dorian tossed the pants aside, instead grabbing Varlen’s wrist and pulling him into a fiery kiss, eliciting a quick (but largely unsurprised) moan. Chuckling, Varlen leaned backward, guiding Dorian onto the soft sheets. The mage smelt like old parchment and ink, but that certainly was not enough to spoil the moment.

Dorian groaned throatily into Varlen’s mouth, getting on top of the elven man and placing his hands firmly on his lover’s chest, tracing the lines of his muscles with reverent fingers. Varlen shivered beneath his light touch, arching into it as Dorian roamed lower, over the ripples of his abdominals, ghosting along that angular V-shaped line that vanished beneath his tight black smalls.  Clearly wishing to follow the trail further, Dorian immediately slipped his fingers under the hem of the fabric and entered the warm space with his left hand. Varlen gasped sharply, but Dorian snatched the sound with a thrust of his tongue, taking the opportunity to taste Varlen’s mouth as he rubbed between the elven man’s legs in firm, circular motions. Varlen’s breath hitched, and he rolled his hips with the movement. A moan fought to escape his throat, but it died before it reached his lips as Dorian deepened the kiss that silenced him. Reaching down, Varlen wrapped his own hand around Dorian’s wrist, his groans shaky with longing as he desperately tried to encourage more friction.

Varlen felt Dorian’s lips curl into a smirk against his own as he thrust upwards needily into the mage’s stimulating hand, a strained whine resonating in his mouth, falling just short of a beg. _More… C-Creators!_ As though sensing the unspoken plea, Dorian shifted his grip, wrapping his hand firmly around Varlen’s shaft and pumping with long, slow strokes, rolling his wrist when he reached the tip, prompting Varlen’s legs to spasm at the sensation each time he reached the head. He even used the fabric of Varlen’s rather snug underwear to provide extra friction; grazing the straining erection against the cotton to the sound the elven man’s keening moans.

As Dorian continued his ministrations, Varlen felt his mind beginning to fog with pleasure – that tight sensation in his gut mounting more and more with each sweep of his shaft, and each bite of his lips as Dorian ravished his mouth with his expert tongue (and just enough teeth). Varlen’s grip tightened around Dorian’s wrist, and he squirmed, managing to wrestle his lips from the mages for a brief moment, grimacing in restraint as he inhaled with sharp bursts.

“D-Dorian…” the gasped word was tinged with warning, but Dorian didn’t heed it, and made a point to increase his pace. Varlen threw his head back with a shudder against the cushions, and Dorian immediately fastened his lips to his lover’s neck – his most notoriously sensitive area. Varlen cried out at that, the hand that wasn’t clamped around Dorian’s wrist immediately flying up to knot in the mage’s short hair, scrabbling desperately as he lavished Varlen’s neck with biting kisses, dragging on the flinching skin. His stroking hand suddenly shifted tact, focusing on the head of Varlen’s leaking cock, his thumb rubbing hard circles on the underside as he kissed his way up the elven man’s throat. That was enough to tip him over the edge, and Varlen’s frame seized in shuddering pleasure, unable to fight off the flashes of heat as Dorian pushed him past his limit. Varlen’s hands clenched around Dorian’s wrist and in his hair respectively, a tearless sob tearing from his throat as he held on to his lover, muscles tight as he came. It took a few long, drawn out seconds before the elven man finally managed to take a rasping breath, gasping hard, sweaty and tangled in both Dorian’s embrace and the sheets. He had managed to twist them around his legs, clearly from thrashing he had not realised he’d been doing.

With a final, lingering kiss on Varlen’s neck, Dorian drew away, and Varlen could tell from that glint in his grey eyes that he was _immensely pleased_ with himself. Swallowing hard, Varlen simply lay there, fighting to catch his breath, as Dorian eased himself off the bed, the smirk on his face a unique mixture of alluring and infuriating.

“W… What about…?” Varlen managed between pants, and Dorian simply chuckled.

“As… much as I _enjoyed_ that particular distraction, amatus…” Dorian said warmly, his tongue swiping his lips quickly as he gazed at Varlen’s sweaty, gasping form. “… I _still_ have work to do. You can have your revenge on another night.”

“…You’re… _you’re lucky I love you._ ”

“I know.”


End file.
